


Your Mother's Eyes

by springinmoominvalley



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 23:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springinmoominvalley/pseuds/springinmoominvalley
Summary: "Y'know, you have your mother's eyes." The older man's voice was soft, and suddenly his face was too close. "You look so much like her… Beautiful."No.No, no.This was wrong.But, what felt the worst was that this wasn't unfamiliar.





	Your Mother's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so before y'all come and attack me for this, I do have a reason for writing it.
> 
> I am a survivor of incestual abuse. I lived this story for years, and I vividly remember watching the old Moomin cartoon as a child and projecting heavily onto Snufkin. To me as a kid, I was him and he was me, and I began to project my own trauma onto him. It was a comfort to imagine him going through what I went through, in a weird, twisted way.
> 
> Whenever I struggle with my past, I write. And it's been a great comfort to write about my own experiences from the POV of a character that I looked up to so much as a child. Anyway, I've written a lot of things like this because they help me get through my darkest moments, and I guess I decided to post this one in hopes that maybe it'll help someone else too.
> 
> So, to Snufkin I'm sorry for hurting you, and to the Joxter I'm sorry for making you do these awful things that you would never actually do.
> 
> And to the reader, I hope that you... enjoy? I guess?

Thud. The loud sound rattled Snufkin's brain and the young boy scrambled up the stairs to his room, hoping to get inside and lock the door before the person who made the sound could see him. After all, there was only one reason his father would slam the door like that after coming home: He was drunk and angry.

"Boy!" the Joxter's voice rang out and Snufkin froze where he stood halfway up the stairs.

He slowly turned around, resigned to the fate that he knew awaited him. He hadn't made it. It had been a while since he hadn't made it, but there was no doubt in his mind that the punishment hadn't changed.

At the base of the stairs stood Snufkin's father, the Joxter, leaning heavily on the wall with a bottle of some unknown liquor in his hand. Snufkin cowered internally - he didn't dare show fear externally else the consequence would be more severe - when he saw the look in the older man's eyes. He was fuming, that was clear. More than likely he had gotten into a fight at the bar or had run into one of the Mymble's new boyfriends.

The Mymble was Snufkin's mother, though he hadn't seen her since he was a toddler. Though it had been years, the Joxter was still head over heels for her, and became infuriated when he was reminded that she didn't feel the same.

"Come down here," the Joxter commanded, his words slurring. His eyes were dark, and Snufkin didn't dare disobey. He walked down until he was standing face to face - more like face to chest, as he was shorter - with his father. "Good boy. Come… come watch a film with me."

Snufkin nodded but remained silent. The Joxter didn't seem to mind. The older man turned and made his way to the living room, and Snufkin followed without hesitation. He had no choice, he reminded himself. It would be worse if he didn't obey.

The Joxter sat down on the couch, though in his drunken state it was more like a controlled fall. The liquid sloshed around in the bottle he still held. Snufkin cautiously sat down next to his father, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The Joxter lazily turned on the tv and flicked the channels until he found something he liked. It wasn't a film, but Snufkin wasn't about to mention that to the drunk man next to him.

A few minutes passed in silence, except for the Joxter's roaring laugh at the unfunny jokes on the television. The younger boy found himself sweating slightly. He knew what was coming and he wished he could just get it over with and go cry alone in his room. When he glanced over at his father, he found the man staring at him with an intense gaze. They locked eyes for just a moment before Snufkin looked away, but it was enough to push the Joxter into motion.

The drunken man slid close to Snufkin on the couch until they were touching and lifted the bottle to offer it to his son.

"Take a drink," he said.

This confused Snufkin. The Joxter had never offered him alcohol before, even when completely drunk himself, and had always even actively discouraged him from drinking, saying that he didn't want the boy to follow in his footsteps and become an alcoholic. He even discouraged Snufkin from smoking his pipe.

Snufkin stared down at the bottle with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. Was this some sort of test? He didn't want to drink anything, but would he be punished if he didn't? Unless this  _ was _ a test and he would be punished if he did take it? The boy's hesitation lengthened from moments to minutes, and the Joxter grew inpatient. The man reached out with his free hand to grab Snufkin's hair and clumsily brought the bottle to his son's lips. He tilted it up and held him in place by his grip on his hair.

Snufkin struggled for only a moment before the Joxter's warning growl brought him to stop. He tentatively swallowed a mouthful, wincing as it burned his throat. But the Joxter didn't pull the bottle away. Snufkin tried to pull back, but the grip on his hair grew tighter. He swallowed another mouthful, then another and another. It burned, and the taste was horrid, but he stomached the liquor. His father didn't pull the bottle away and release his grip until the bottle was empty.

"That's a good boy," he cooed sweetly. Snufkin felt sick.

Things were starting to get cloudy for Snufkin. Everything felt very far away, but every touch and sound resonated through his body like electricity. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, and he wondered how much he had drank. He must have looked like a mess because the Joxter laughed. A hand absentmindedly made its way into Snufkin's hair, this time petting softly rather than grabbing roughly. It felt… Nice. He wished the affection was as simple as that, but when he looked over at his father he saw a predatory gaze staring back at him. Affection from the Joxter was never just simple father-son affection.

"Y'know, you have your mother's eyes." The older man's voice was soft, and suddenly his face was too close. "You look so much like her… Beautiful."

No.

No, no.

This was wrong.

But, what felt the worst was that this wasn't unfamiliar. The Joxter's own love for the Mymble was destroying him, and he had found solace in the worst of places. By getting drunk and finding the Mymble in his own son. Snufkin wasn't sure if it was the situation or the alcohol, but he felt like he was going to throw up.

The Joxter's hand in his hair turned cruel as he grabbed at the brown locks, pulling Snufkin's face closer to his own until their lips were roughly pressed together. The Joxter immediately tried to deepen the kiss with his tongue, and Snufkin reluctantly allowed entrance into his mouth. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine anyone else kidding him, and remained motionless. The Joxter didn't seem to mind.

Before he knew it, his father was pushing him down so that he was laying on the sofa. He crawled on top of him and resumed the harsh kiss, one hand gently cupping Snufkin's cheek and the other pressing down on his chest to keep him down. Not that Snufkin would struggle. As much as he wanted to, he had learned by now not to make it harder than it needed to be.

The older man's mouth moved from his mouth, trailing along his jaw and neck, leaving soft kisses until it clamped down on the junction between his neck and shoulder. Snufkin whimpered as the Joxter bit down hard, then gently sucked on and kissed the spot. The Joxter wriggled himself between Snufkin's thighs as he continued to suckle on his neck, and the younger boy gasped when he felt him press their clothed ground together. The Joxter was rock hard.

The alcohol took away most of Snufkin's self control, and he found himself being much louder and more responsive to the Joxter's touches, much to his own dismay. The older man loved how sensitive and responsive his son became, and spent more time than usual teasing him by biting and leaving hickeys as well as rubbing their crotches together. The friction was starting to make Snufkin hard. If he didn't know that it would have gotten him punished, he would have cried.

"You like that?" the Joxter whispered into Snufkin's ear. "I can make you feel even better darling."

Before Snufkin could comprehend those words, the hand that had been on his chest was slowly sliding downwards until it came to rest on the hem of his pants. There was only a moment's pause before the waistband of his pants and underwear were grabbed and yanked down at the same time. Snufkin yelped when his erection was freed, cold air hitting it. The wandering hand immediately wrapped around it, giving it a few lazy pumps to bring him to full hardness.

And then, suddenly the body on top of him withdrew. Snufkin started to sit up, but a warning growl kept him down. He opened his eyes to see the Joxter sitting back, removing his clothing. Oh. He looked down at Snufkin expectantly, and the boy quickly realized that he was supposed to be doing the same. His hands started to tremble when he reached down to lift his shirt over his head, and even with his dick completely out in the open already it was difficult for him to gain the strength to remove his pants and underwear.

Meanwhile, the Joxter had finished undressed and, now completely naked, watched Snufkin undress with hungry eyes. Once again, Snufkin felt like vomiting.

Suddenly, the Joxter was back on top of him, kissing his now chapped lips like he was a starving man and Snufkin was a meal. His hands roamed his body, but soon found a resting place on Snufkin's soft ass. The Joxter pulled away from the kiss and sat back up, still situated between the smaller boy's thighs. He looked down with a soft, almost loving expression that Snufkin couldn't bear to look at.

"You're perfect…" he said, and Snufkin felt himself blush. He hated this. He hated this so much.

Snufkin's eyes were drawn back to his father when he felt a slick finger force its way into him. When had the Joxter even grabbed the lube? He supposed it didn't matter now. He whimpered softly at the slight stretch, and gasped when a second finger was added too early.

"W-Wait!" Snufkin said, his first words all night, and the Joxter's expression grew dark.

"You can take it," the older man said firmly. "You  _ will _ take it."

A shiver ran through Snufkin, but he didn't complain again. The pain quickly ceased, though the intrusion still felt uncomfortable, and Snufkin found himself letting out little squeaks and whimpers. He blamed it on the alcohol.

Suddenly, the Joxter's fingers thrust in a little farther at just the right angle and Snufkin saw stars. He moaned loudly and arched his back, beginning to grind his hips back on his father's fingers, trying desperately to get more. The Joxter stared down at him in marvel, a grin slowly stretching across his face. He had never made his son moan like that, and he silently praised the existence of alcohol for taking away Snufkin's inhibitions.

After hitting his prostate a few more times, each time drawing sharp gasps and moans from the man underneath, the Joxter removed his fingers. Snufkin whimpered at the loss, then stiffened in sudden fear when he felt something thicker press at his entrance. He almost protested again, but before he could say anything the Joxter's dick was forcing its way inside of him and all Snufkin could do was cry out in wordless pain and pleasure.

The Joxter didn't give Snufkin a chance to adjust before he was thrusting rapidly. Snufkin grasped at the fabric beneath him as the large cock shoved its way deeper and deeper into him. Tears filled up his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Instead, he cried out every time he was pushed into, which absolutely overjoyed the man above him.

"You're taking it so good, just for me," the Joxter was murmuring absentmindedly as he thrust in and out of the younger boy. "You're all mine - fuck - You're so good for me-"

Snufkin tuned out the incessant talking. Somehow the words were worse than the actions. They felt too real, made this whole thing feel… intimate.

All of a sudden, the head of the Joxter's dick hit Snufkin's prostate and he couldn't bite back the loud moan. The Joxter paused for a moment before thrusting at the same angle again and again, hitting that one spot dead on every time. Snufkin felt each thrust with great intensity, and there was no holding back his noises. The pleasure was unreal, and all too soon Snufkin felt pressure building up in his body. Fuck, he was really going to cum from being fucked by his own father. He was disgusting, he was sick, he was -

"Beautiful… You're so - ungh - beautiful, Snufkin," the Joxter growled. It was the first time that he had used his name in one of these situations.

Snufkin didn't have time to think about the implications of that, because before he knew what was happening he was cumming hard. He must have tightened up around the Joxter, whose thrusts were becoming sporadic, because the man moaned loudly and came inside him.

It was finally over. Snufkin could retreat into his room and try to forget. But when the Joxter finally pulled out of him and spoke, his heart sank.

"You're sleeping in my bed tonight."

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, that was a doozy. Please feel free to leave comments and kudos and all that!!


End file.
